Sunday, October 28, 2012

Playtime with Murphy

As I did a bit more work on the drainage ditch, making ready for the storm, Murphy beckoned.

Come play with me!

So I set the pick and shovel aside, and joined my buddy in the woods behind the Lair. He loves to run through the leaves like a pup, kicking them into the air then pivoting to snap at them as they fly past him. He also loves to bait me (or anyone else) into a rousing game of tug-o'-war with his flat basketball by pretending to offer it up for a throw. He'll poke me and prod me with it, daring me to grab it, at which time he'll snatch it back in triumph every time. And he's strong; once he has a good grip on it and solid footing beneath him, the contest is already over because you won't get it away from him. Not ever. I've tried to break him of this since I got him, but it's ingrained in him as his favorite game. So I ignore him, refusing to take the offered ball, no matter how many times he nudges me with it. Eventually he will get frustrated and throw it down at my feet. But alas, this too is a ploy that I have come to know well.

"Here's my ball. You can have it. All you have to do is reach down and pick it up."

"As IF!!! ROWR!!"

Silly dog.
Predictable dog.
But a fun dog all the same, especially on a nice Fall day

If I tgry to kick the ball, Murphy'll usually jam his big melon in there just in time to catch a boot in the snout. And yeah, Keads is kinda evil. That's what makes him such good company at Bluegrass bars.